Dear journal,
So I just moved here to new York state. I totally hate it. Its too cold and so far I only saw one cute boy at the gas station...
The gas station 12 miles away..
So basically our house is on a mountain. Somewhere... In the middle of nowhere. The closest grocery store is like 5 miles away. And not to mention its freezing and there's bees everywhere.
My Dad thought it would be a good idea to move here and buy a few acres to start that farm he always wanted.
There's litteraly so many things wrong with that.
#1, he knows absolutely nothing about farms or animals
#2, he basically killed all the pets he's ever owned.
#3, I'm not sure we even have the financial stability for a farm. But its always been a dream of his. So whatever.
This pen is running out of ink so I'm just going to end this writing... Yeah...
-chasity-"
I put the journal back onto the small table next to my "bed" it was more of a board with a inch wide mattress and a pillow. I could hear my Dad and jess downstairs through the small cracks in the floor, just laughing and having a good old time.
I'm sick of this whole act like we are a perfect family crap. Its pisses me off that my dad moved on from mom. Jess will never be anything like her no matter how she tries.
I need a cigarette to stop this thinking and calm me down. I walked to my suitcase in the corner and rummages though towels and random stuff to find where i hid them. I found them in one of the inside pockets. I pulled a cigarette out and my lighter and snuck down the stairs hoping they wouldn't hear me as i went out the back door.
I started to open the door... and "creeeeaaaakkkk" this dumb old rusty peice of shit just blew my cover. My dads heavy boots made a vibration in the house for every step he took towards where I was standing.
"Where ya going hun?" He asked me.
"Its uhm.. A bit dusty in my room.. I think I'm going to take a walk or something. I don't know"I told him.
